Blue Rose
by CloudedBright
Summary: You know who you are. You know who you aren't. Remember.
1. A letter

Most people think stories they find online are just that, stories, but some of them are very real. You know this. You know them. You just don't want to remember.

You're probably wondering what I mean, what I'm saying. Now you shall remember. I'm speaking of the Watchers, the Blue Roses. At least that's what I call them.

They lurk at the edges of playgrounds, schools, malls, anywhere children gather. And they watch. Then, a few days later they vanish. And so do all those children that never quite fit in.

All those children with golden eyes. All those children, those unaware children, gullible children, trusting, weak children.

They have been taken. Nobody ever looks for them. Ever will look for them. Ever recall their names, their faces. Ever wonder where they went. Like they never even existed. Gone.

You knew them. They knew you. They remember you. Do you remember them?

You remember. The Watchers then seem to leave. Only frost remains. You didn't see them for a while after that. Then the ones you saw were wearing the flesh of your missing, misfit friend. They never stay gone.

Even unseen, they watch. They wait. They always look different, but a few things remain consistent. The emblem of a blue rose, upon a dark hoodie. The frost where they once stood. They look like humans, but the eyes are always wrong, always _gold_.

Those golden eyes, so hypnotizing, void of any emotion, any empathy. So beautiful, so cold. Sheets of winter glass in the rising sun. Or setting.

Your friends had those eyes, and they were _cold_. You have those eyes, yours are warm. Not cold. Never cold.

You still don't see yourself. Don't quite remember.

My eyes are cold, but they have grown dull. Brown. Barely a hint, a tint of gold. I was discarded. Yours are pure, bright. The Sun. You should be that cold glass. Why so warm?

You still don't believe. Even then you didn't.

You remember, you're a risk, now you're in danger. A danger. You have become prey. A suspect predator. You should have tried harder to be taken, chosen. In a while, I, too shall be gone. I still remember them.

Don't be afraid. You will never see them. Hear them. Even feel them. You'll just be gone one day. Like all those kids you used to know. You were always under watch. You're the last one remaining. The last one remembered. Last one remembering.

And we remember _you_. Why would you never tell us your name?


	2. A warning

Do you remember? Of course you don't. They never do.

You never do.

We used to play together all the time, you and me. Nobody else to play with, at least nobody else after _that_. They always were far too trusting. They disappeared.

We never thought about them after that. At least, _you_ didn't.

I did.

But now you've changed. I see it in your eyes. Same color, same as all of us. But that scorching _warmth_, too hot, too bright.

Flying too close to the sun. Our wings melting. We all burned up. Candle wicks.

But now I'm gone as well. You never remembered me. I can see it in your eyes. Shouldn't stare into the sun.

So bright.

Too bright.

Were we, are we so meaningless? So easy to forget? Your friends, the only ones to stand by you, with you, forgotten? Never looked for once we were gone?

I should have known better. You're just like the others. Not us at all. I was far too trusting. I looked for them when they were gone.

I said you changed. That's wrong. I did. I see what you are now.

I thought you were different, like us, with those cold eyes.

Gold eyes.

But now I see that I was blind.

Blinded.

Too bright. So hot that it felt cold to the touch. Unaware until we were boiled alive. Just frogs in the pot.

Now I'm gone as well. I now know where they went. I found them, no, they found me.

But my eyes have gone dull. No gold. Not even the slightest tint or spark.

They don't want me. I lost my chance. They needed me, no, needed my eyes. At least I thought so. Turns out I needed them.

You're the last one. But you aren't like them. It won't work. A white rose painted red is still a white rose, after all.

They don't need white or red roses. They want to be blue.

Impossible, immortal, infinite blue.

Icarus soaring. Too close to the sun.

Melting their dye away. Their true colors will be shown if they try. Their wings will melt. They all will fall as I fell. We can't survive alone.

They don't care anymore.

All they need are those golden eyes, the last set. That icy chill, a frozen, beautiful, glass sunset. You aren't. I wasn't. A sunrise can never freeze. It's never a sunset for long. Nobody is. Not anymore.

You still don't remember.

Warning after warning, but all you can hear is that roaring silence. You hide yourself. Blind yourself.

Why?


End file.
